


Half-Closed Lashes, Half-Open Lips

by gremlinpolice



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, DWSA - Freeform, Deaf West Spring Awakening - Freeform, High School AU, I love my boys, M/M, Oral Sex, Tender - Freeform, bobby mahler he's ok, hernst, spring awakening - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22111591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinpolice/pseuds/gremlinpolice
Summary: Hanschen and Ernst have an arrangement with no-strings-attached and they are both perfectly content with it just the way it is.Aren't they?
Relationships: Hanschen Rilow/Ernst Robel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	Half-Closed Lashes, Half-Open Lips

" _Fuck_!" Ernst exclaims, his head thrown back and eyes shut tight at the sensation. Hanschen can't help smiling after he pulls his mouth off of Ernst's painfully hard cock, lips popping as the seal breaks around the head. The writhing brunet bucks his hips at the loss of contact, outright whining when Hanschen doesn’t immediately move back to sucking him off.

"God, you're fucking _needy_ today," Hans observes, drinking in the sight of Ernst naked on his bed-- aroused, desperate, and gorgeous, with his legs now wrapped around Hanschen's hips.

" _Justfuckme._ " Ernst doesn't bother to breath in between words, his chest heaving as he pulls Hans into an uncoordinated and messy kiss that probably wasn't all too pleasant for either of them but dammit Hanschen's lips were swollen and pink and entirely too delicious for him to care.

It was a game they had been at for weeks-- school, studying, sex, repeat as necessary. This regime worked out for the pair pretty well, both being teenagers who enjoy sleeping with each other-- and Ernst really needed the extra help in Algebra II.

"Fuck you? Do you think you deserve to-" Hans rutted himself against Ernst, causing the other boy to moan so deliciously that he had to do it again, "-get fucked? I think-" _Thrust_ "I think that you need to work a little harder to convince me, Robel." Hanschen smirks, leaning over to press a teasingly chaste kiss into Ernst's forehead.

Neither of them had been virgins when it started, and although Hanschen had been open about his bisexuality since their sophomore year, he only learned a few months ago that Ernst was even interested in men. Ernst—who had kissed Martha under the bleachers while they were meant to be running laps in gym class in sixth grade—only found out around that same time as well, erring on the side of caution and avoiding any kind of romantic attachments altogether. That is, until he was found, his briefs around his ankles, with Bobby Mahler in the auditorium by Melchior and Otto in February. Bobby stopped talking to him, wouldn't look him in the eye for weeks. Melchior had told the whole senior class, and news spread.

"Hansi please please _please_ ," Ernst is gasping as Hanschen leaves hot and wet open mouthed kisses all over his neck and chest, tempting more whines and thrusts out of the brunet as he went, "Shit, I know how bad you want this too, please, just- ah!" Ernst yelps in surprise when Hanschen bites down softly—almost tenderly—on his hip bone, the foreign sensation rippling through him, adding to his arousal. Tangling his fingers in Hans' blond locks, Ernst pulls lightly to look into those dark blue eyes, drunk with power and lust. Hanschen's stupid fucking grin is maddening.

"If you don't take me right now," Ernst states with as much power as he can muster, "I am literally going to die."

"Well," Hans reasons, running a finger across Ernst's abdomen, "we certainly don't want that."

"No, we certainly fucking don't."

Anna Wheelan had been Hanschen’s first girlfriend, with her big green eyes and dangerously sharp wit. The few times that he saw her naked, her hair fell over her breasts in such a way that it covered her like the old paintings that hung in the art museums; paintings he always looked at for a little too long. Max von Trenk had been another of Hans' flings—though their relationship only lasted the summer. The concept of anal sex had been daunting to Max, so the pair opted for sticky handjobs in the backs of cars, the woods behind the church, anywhere they were out of sight. It almost made him sad to think that Max died without experiencing the different carnal wonders that Hans had. But he didn't need to reopen old wounds; he dealt with that in therapy months ago.

Rolling off of Ernst and rising, Hanschen crosses his bedroom to fumble around in his top dresser drawer for lube and a condom. Taking his sweet time as Ernst lay helpless, he returns to kneel back down on the bed in between his partner's legs. He tosses the condom down next to him and opens the bottle of lube, drizzling a generous amount onto two pointed fingers. Ernst is scratching nervously at the blue quilt beneath them, trying to expel some of his pent up energy and frustration somehow.

Using his other hand, Hanschen pulls Ernst closer—almost roughly. He watches with a smirk as Ernst suppress a moan at the unexpected manhandling. Slowly, painfully slowly, Hans pressed a finger to the other man's entrance, methodically pushing his way in.

"Do you always have to go so slow?" Ernst sighed, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look.

Hans looks into his eyes with a blank expression, letting his actions respond for him as the tip of his middle finger rubs against that spot that drove Ernst crazy, watching the pleasure build. Of course he had to go slow—Hanschen would never want to hurt Ernst for real.

Ernst had been painfully shy at first—willing, but not enough to act first. Hanschen had to tell him how to move, where to put his hands, where to put his mouth, until Hanschen's exasperation got the best of them.

_"Ernst, if you don't say anything, I can't tell if you're still into this." He wanted to take the boys head in his hands and give a firm shake but refrained, opting to rest his hands on Ernst's slim shoulders. Ernst took a breath and leaned in, moving his tongue and his fingers in a way that silenced all the doubts his partner had about his enjoyment._

He was a slow learner, but he was learning.

Whimpering as Hans removed his fingers, Ernst watches him tear open the condom (with his fucking teeth), roll it on, and reach for more lube. At this point, Hanschen was panting too—chest heaving as he spread the slick substance onto his cock, watching Ernst through hooded eyes.

"Are you ready for me, baby?" Hanschen growls, leaning down to nip at Ernst's earlobe.

Baby. Something about the new pet name sent a shiver down Ernst's spine.

Taking advantage of his partner's moment of self-indulgence, Ernst takes a hold of Hanschen's shoulders and rolls them over, pinning his wrists against the headboard, above that pretty blond head.

"Only if you're ready for me, _baby_ ," Ernst croons, relishing in the amazement and pure joy on Hanschen's face, his excited and devious smile widening slowly as Ernst let go of his lover’s wrists to align their bodies in such a way that—

_"Hans I still don't get-- why do I have to convert the system to a matrix?" Ernst smacks his palm down onto the book in frustration. Ernst always was hung up on the why of math, puzzling over problems as if he were an engineer and his job depended on it; not understanding that in high-school, math is just something you do, and not think too hard about why you were doing it_

Right now, though, the _why_ was to feel good. The _why_ was to let go. The _why_ was to feel, for just a second, that they were the only ones who understood what the other needed.

Their first time together was clumsy and awkward, as most first times are, but the way that their bodies fit together from the beginning was electric, undeniable. So electric, in fact, that Hanschen had stopped hooking up with Ulbrecht after swim practice because he just couldn't get Hanschen the way that Ernst could.

“I’ll never get used to this,” Hans breaths, eyes wide as he watches Ernst undulating, his gorgeous cock bobbing as he moves. He couldn’t help but think how confident Ernst had become—at first, he was too self-conscious to make any noise and now this, his pleasure unabashedly on display as he works Hanschen’s length.

Ernst smirks, connecting their lips in a fleeting kiss as he reaches down in between them to give himself a few quick strokes, pushing him closer to the edge. Biting his lip, he groans as Hans brings his hand to Ernst's erection.

Ernst’s legs, bracketing Hanschen’s hips, began to shake—his telltale sign of over-stimulation. While he was enjoying the sight of Ernst writhing, the frustration taking over his body, Hanschen decides that taking pity on his lover would be most beneficial for the both of them (who ever said Hanschen Rilow was selfish?). With strong hands, he stills the stuttering of Ernst’s hips, grounding his lover as he lays Ernst down softly, tenderly, completely juxtaposed by the feverishness of the act they were engaged in.

The quilt was cool against Ernst’s back, as Hanschen propped himself up on his forearm, leaning in close to Ernst’s flushed face.

“Breathe,” Hans soothes, his voice deep and ragged. When Ernst got like this, he got so into his own head that he forgot to feel. They lay still for a moment, the only movement the rise and fall of their heaving chests. These moments were rare, and they gave way to something more, something deeper, something unknown. Their noses touched, but they didn’t kiss, they just looked—drinking in every freckle, spot, and crease. Ernst closes his eyes.

“I’m good."

“You sure?”

“Yeah, let’s keep going,”

“Well you don’t have to tell me twice.”

Hanschen moves slowly at first, giving Ernst and himself a few extra moments to breathe before bringing them both back up to speed. Regaining some composure, Ernst strokes his cock in one hand while holding onto Hanschen’s shoulders for dear life with the other.

“ _Hansi—”_ moans Ernst as Hanschen’s hips snap deliciously against his own, “Hans, I’m—”

“Come, then. You’re so pretty when you’re coming,” Hanschen growls in his ear as Ernst comes on his stomach, seizing so prettily at the sensation.

Hans groans, his own climax overtaking him at the sight of Ernst’s trembling limbs and pliant lips, “Fuck, Ernst!”

Collapsing at Ernst’s side, Hanschen lays still for a moment, watching Ernst—the rise and fall of his chest, the half-closed eyes, the pinkened cheeks, the pure beauty of it.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Hanschen watches Ernst roll out of bed and head to the adjoining bathroom to freshen up; he’d been over enough times that he knew the routine. With hooded eyes and cool hands, Hanschen grabs his wrist, pulling him to the side of the bed, wordlessly dragging a finger through the come on Ernst’s stomach—eyes full of desire as he licks his fingers clean.

Ernst shivers at the image, “You’re wicked,” he pants, leaning down to kiss Hanschen soundly.

Wicked. Hanschen liked being wicked.

“If you want, you can stay,” Hanschen says when Ernst returns, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant, “My grandparents won’t be home for hours.”

Ernst raises his eyebrow—cuddling had not been a part of their arrangement, except for a few minutes after sex where they were both too tired to move. The act seemed too daunting, too deep for just a simple hookup, but Ernst was slowly realizing that neither of them were ever only after a simple hookup. He smiles.

“I’d like that, Hans. On one condition,” 

“What?” Hanschen asks, eyes wide and startled, never dreaming sweet Ernst would be one to have terms and conditions for their affection.

Ernst winks, “I get to be the big spoon.”

Hanschen chuckles, shaking his head. “You are so fucking needy,” he chastises as they settle in together, drifting off into a peaceful and sated sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you appreciate this I looked up math and almost had a fucking stroke


End file.
